Inconvenient Truths
by tarsido
Summary: KID falls from grace, and Conan is by his side every step of way as he starts his climb back up. KIDCon


**Title: **Inconvenient Truths

**Rating:** PG

**Warnings:** Language, flangsty, sappy ending HOMG, weird grammar

**Summary: **KID falls from grace, and Conan is by his side every step of the way as he starts his climb back up. KIDCon

**Disclaimer:** Do not own. Prompts are from 10_prompts lj community.

* * *

**Hold Your Breath**

Where KID runs, Conan chases.

He reaches the rooftop in time to capture a glimpse of KID standing on the edge. While this is no extraordinary motion from the thief that glides the rooftop so swiftly (or sends a decoy to do so), that night it wraps a cold hand around his heart.

_No! What are you doing-_

Then he sees the jewel in his hands, before it winks from sight as KID turns grandly to face Conan, as if pandering to an invisible audience.

Conan stares intently into the shade of KID's top hat casts over his face and analyses. They trade off a few barbs, but KID's heart didn't seem to be in it, and truthfully neither was Conan's.

"The task force didn't believe, you know," Conan tells him abruptly, ignoring whatever clever meaningless chatter the thief was going to spout at him. "And neither did I."

KID goes still, but catches himself expertly again and laughed. "Why so trusting of a criminal?" He questions. His voice darkens and Conan fights not to shrink back. "You're up here alone while everyone else is off tracking the dummy I sent to the other side of the museum. I could prove you wrong right here and now and you would be woefully unprepared." He hisses out. "No one would hear you if you scream."

Conan doesn't know if he's meeting the thief's eyes, but he doesn't look away. "What's with that cliché line?" He snorts. "It doesn't make you sound cool to say things like that. For your information, I've seen much scarier people than you. You forget what I do."

"I thought I would have joined their ranks," KID jokes but his smile is a tense curve of lips and teeth. "There was more than enough evidence pointing to me as the culprit after all." There is a soft hitch in the throat, as if he wants to laugh but can't.

Conan wants to kick a brick at him, attack him, _do something _– anything– to get that horrible, forlorn look off his face.

"I said I didn't believe already," Conan snaps. "Can you stop making me say things again? Clean out your ears with a bulldozer! How many times do you want me to repeat for you to understand that? Do you want me to hammer it into your head? Put up reminders in the newspapers? Or send up fireworks spelling 'you're innocent'? Would that cater to your ego? Would that make you believe?"

"I'd like it if you don't take a hammer or a bulldozer to the goods upstairs," KID quips, just a bit late, the tiniest quiver in his voice barely detectable to Conan's sharp focus. "Withstanding your soccer attacks is already more than enough for me, thank you very much." He turns away and tilts his head upwards. Conan pretends not to see the tears slowly track down the visible slice of KID's face and looks away, giving KID a façade of privacy.

A soft whisper carries on the wind to Conan's ears. _Thank you._ He jerks upwards and KID smiles at him, a perfect, true smile and falls.

Conan's heart jumps and he races to the edge and scrambles over, eyes darting frantically. The whiteness of KID's outfit stands out against the darkness starkly and he falls and falls and _falls._

_Don't do it!_ Conan wants to scream, but it sticks in his throat in a tiny, dying wail. _Stop- Don't let this happen-_

Then the hang glider snaps open, jerking slightly from the steep plummet, and he soars away, teasingly brushing over the yelling task force wearing an eye-watering shade of yellow and an extremely unhappy and putridly gold Inspector Nakamori who is venting his frustration by bellowing insults at KID's back. He seems to be trying to pelt KID with his array of handcuffs.

Conan exhales again, and wonders when he held his breath.

He watches silently as the white figure disappears into the cover of the trees before heading down. He thinks about the latest murder case, with KID's name emblazoned boldly on the top.

It will be another long night, but it's not like he's not used to it. He rolls a stone under his shoe idly. And his job is to clear the names of the innocent and denounce the guilty after all. He never thought he'd ever put KID under the list of the innocent, but…

Back to work then.

**Poison**

It's like poison dripping into the ears of the ignorant public, Conan marvels. He wonders how anyone can stand it.

He casts a swift, dismissive glance over the front page of the newspaper. _Son of murdered Diet member vows vengeance! Is KID really the culprit-_

He crumples the grey broadsheet like the trash it is, dropping and crushing it under his heel, disregarding the dirty look a matronly woman passing by casts at him. It doesn't feel enough.

He frowns. Now what was he going to read on the train? He boards grumpily, squishing in between a group of giggly girls and a drowsy businessman. He doesn't look at the newspaper stand where he purchased the paper, crying out, "Latest news on the KID murder scandal! Morning update at-"

_What rubbish. _Once the idol of many citizens over Japan, now plunged into the depths of infamy, even before the final verdict is out. The investigation isn't even complete yet. Who is writing all this bullshit?

Conan imagines kicking over the news stand and hurling all the papers into the train tracks. Unsatisfied, he adds the creative use of a flamethrower. He still doesn't feel gratified.

The insidious whispers of the group of gossipy girls seep into his ears. "I heard he was killed with a gun-"

"That's scary! I can't believe a criminal was wandering armed like that! What _are_ the police doing?"

"Yeah, he's practically inviting them to catch him by sending out all the warnings! You'd think they'd have caught him by now, but nooo-"

"How many years has it been? They should fire whoever that's in charge of catching KID and put someone else up there."

"Reimi is completely devastated, she's tearing up her KID posters now-"

"I always knew there was something not right with him, what kind of sicko wanders around at night and tempts the police anyway?"

"I can't believe it either! I thought he was a good guy, but that goes to show that there are all sorts of freaks out there-"

Conan can't _stand_ to hear all this any longer, so he, much to his everlasting shame, does a strange hop-trip, falls flat on his face, screws up his face and starts sobbing like his heart is broken. Eyes turn to him, murmurs start up and comforting shushes begin, but thankfully all the chatter about KID _stops._

It isn't a long term solution, or even a solution at all, but even he doesn't know what to do and he's sick of hearing people turn their backs so easily. In a seat that a sweet young woman obligingly gave up for him, he squeezes his eyes shut (hearing the intake of breaths around him, as if preparing to withstand a storm of crying) and runs through the case details in his mind for what feels like the thousandth and one time.

The key is in there, he repeats to himself insistently. KID isn't – can't be – the criminal, so someone else has to be and that someone else had to have left fucking clues that would fucking well lead to the damned truth of the case and prove that KID is innocent and had been all along so all the stupid people can just shove their snide remarks and _I knew this would happen's_ up their-

He bites his lip. Not concentrating, he reprimands himself. He bows his head. _The first one to discover the body was the maid, Leila Tan, and she left the room for approximately two minutes after discovery to alert the-_

He can't afford to fail here. Not only would it ruin his 100% solve rate (which was near and dear to his heart), there is a lot more riding on it this time.

He thinks about moonlight reflecting off tears on a pale cheek and wipes the thought away.

_The weapon was left about 5 inches away from the body with…_

**Give**

He arrives late to the heist this time. His hair is flat on one side and fluffy on the other, his shirt a mass of wrinkles from his uncomfortable sleeping position. Ran is frowning with disapproval, having reluctantly given in to Conan's pleas to attend the heist after rousing him from his impromptu nap on the table. He thanks whoever looking over detectives that his math homework was nearby, so he could pull them over to shield Ran's eyes from the ugly photos of the case.

"I think it's over already, Conan," Ran murmurs unhappily. "I'm sorry, but accidents happen all the time, so don't be upset, alright?"

Conan doesn't answer her. He is too busy scanning the skies for any sign of KID's signature airborne getaways. He catches a flash of white on the rooftop. The crowd sees it too, and instead of the usual cheers, angry screams of empty threats and jeering is heard. Conan squeezes his eyes shut and prays that-

Prays that what?

He shakes himself. Surely he wasn't going to wish that the thief doesn't get distracted and gets away safely, was he?

But it doesn't seem likely. Fingers fumbling on his glasses for a handy feature that Professor Agasa had installed a few weeks ago, he zooms in on the lonely outline standing alone against the night sky. KID's monocle shines brightly, obscuring an eye, but his mouth is cut in a firm, straight press of lips and his jaw has a harsh set to it. His proud figure steadily faces ahead, as if looking at a goal far ahead of them that only he can see.

Conan, standing below him in the angry mob, feels very small.

(He suddenly imagines screaming, imagines KID turning to _look_ at him, but that was impossible, illogical, because he was just a face in a crowd and a short one at that, and any sound he can make would be drowned out in the sea of white noise anyway. Not to mention, KID wouldn't give him the time of the day if he wasn't part of the heist in any case. He wants to anyway.)

KID leaps- so does Conan's heart- and he disappears into the darkness. Conan follows him with his eyes powerlessly until he can't see him anymore.

**Sweat**

"Don't say that." The words burst out of him before he can swallow them. He bites the corner of his cheek but continues in a voice ringing of arctic temperatures. "Jumping to conclusions is a careless behavior unwarranted by _adults_. There is nothing mature about making hasty judgments against someone, even a criminal like KID. If the case is as wrap-and-go as it seems, do you _really_ think that it would be just Nakamori and his task force here and not Department 1, which is in charge of murders?"

Eyes stare down at Conan. Oops. He didn't sound anything like a little kid in that mini-speech, did he? Ran looks mortified. The reporter blinks, but fires back undaunted, "If he is really innocent, why doesn't he prove it then? If he has nothing to hide, that shouldn't be a problem."

Conan grinds his teeth together audibly. Irritation itches under his skin. He fights against the urge to cut the moron down to size and gives in. _Sorry Ran. I'll be extra nice to you tomorrow._ "It would be perfectly reasonable, _if the victim wasn't KID._ Is it not ridiculous to expect KID to walk up to the police station, sit down and give his statement? Oh, maybe he'll even prove it to them by providing eye-witnesses of his actions and his contact details and address so that the police can reach him again if they need to! How ingenious!"

By the time he is finished browbeating the hapless reporter, a circle of wide-eyed audience has gathered around him. He chews on the inside of his cheek. He hasn't acted a bit like his presumed age, but he doesn't regret it. He happily thinks of the sweat the reporter had broken into after the third relentless question.

He doesn't believe in leaving idiots standing with any dignity after polluting the air with their garbage.

"So you support KID?" Another idiotic question comes. He turns around, annoyed. It was from a messy haired girl who looks remarkably like Ran. Nakamori's daughter, he recalls. Nakamori Aoko. Beside her, a boy with tufts of unruly hair sticking out from under his baseball cap stares at him enigmatically. Conan glares at him defensively. He isn't going to take anything he said back, because it is all _true._

"I lose half my body fat chasing after KID every heist and people actually ask me this?" He mutters disgustedly. He raises his voice loudly. "If thinking he's innocent in the murder of Ito Sosuke means that I support him, then yes I damn well do." He glowers at everyone, daring them to contradict him. Why not? He's in the mood to mutilate some egos tonight.

Ran finally finds her voice. "Conan! Language!" She snatches up Conan and apologises frantically. "I'm sorry! I don't know what came over him tonight- he's normally a very obedient and well-behaved child."

"Don't be sorry," Nakamori's daughter waves her hands and laughs. "It's true. My father doesn't watch the news on television anymore, cause he says that he wants to put a foot through the television every time the word KID comes out of the broadcaster's mouth."

Ran stifles a grin. "That sounds rather like him."

"I don't even like KID myself, but it's been really weird lately," Nakamori's daughter leans forward and confides. "People loved him, then just with this, they hate him. And the best- or worst part- is that it might not even be true. It's probably just the media blowing up news as usual."

"People's hearts are fickle," Ran agrees.

"Indeed." She pokes the baseball-capped boy beside her. "Hey, are you happy now? Hear that? There are still people who believe in your idol. Hopefully this will make people think more carefully."

The boy shrugs. Conan starts to feel uncomfortable. The weight of those indigo eyes on him is heavy.

Nakamori's daughter sighs. "Don't mind him, he's been down since this all happened. He's a very big fan of KID."

Ran makes sympathetic noises. Conan tunes out the girl bonding, but his heart calms and his pulse doesn't beat quite as quickly and frantically as if he is running a race alone.

He isn't the only one pushing against the bad opinion of KID. He has to remember that.

Conan twitches and starts to smooth down the fluffed up sides of his hair. _Why_ is that guy still staring at him like that? Does he really look that bad?

That guy isn't _laughing_ at him now, is he? He'd reap his vengeance if he is!

**Tender**

He swings his legs on the park bench, eyes idly tracing over the Detective Boys playing baseball a little ways ahead. Haibara perches next to him, typing busily away as usual. She had firmly established herself as part of the nerd culture once she was old enough; toting a laptop everywhere she goes. A boy wearing sunglasses and a cap strolls by them and sits down at the other edge of the bench.

Conan doesn't think anything about it until a very familiar voice tells him, "Thanks."

He jerks wildly and stares at the boy. Haibara stops, alert to the sudden movement, and they both eye the stranger warily.

He doesn't do anything but smile at them sunnily. Somehow, Conan recognises that bright grin.

"Go away, Haibara," he orders. Haibara turns back to narrow her eyes at Conan, assessing the new, potentially dangerous situation. Seeing Conan's relaxed stance, she softens too, and claps the laptop shut.

"Have fun, but not too much fun! I want pictures if you do though," Haibara calls out nonchalantly over her shoulder as she trots away. Conan flushes angrily. Does every sentence out of Haibara have to be specially engineered to disturb him as much as possible?

Conan waits until she is gone a safe distance before demanding, "What do you want? Idiot," he tacks on. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He berates, but he isn't sure whether it is directed to himself or at KID.

"Do I have to want anything to visit my favourite detective?" KID's mouth curls up in a laugh.

"I'd be more worried if you didn't want something," Conan grumbles.

KID's smile fades. "I'm sorry for worrying you so much lately," he murmurs.

_What?_ He echoes his thought out loud, staring at KID blankly. "Since when have you cared about anything besides embarrassing us as much as possible?" He scoffs. "You better stop that, because that'll give you a soft edge. And you'll need everything you can get to escape from me next time. In fact, I could just damn well dart you right here and now-"

"I always think about you," KID says over Conan. Conan's cheeks flush deeply and he tries to unscramble his thoughts after KID's outrageous proclamation sent them tumbling over one another. A wicked grin crosses KID's face. "Are you shy, tantei-kun?"

He snaps, "You have to be joking! Why would I be? You're just spouting rubbish as usual." He adds an extra edge of viciousness into it to cover up any trace of embarrassment. Who _says_ things like that? KID, apparently. One of his weird ways to mindscrew people as usual, Conan supposes.

The conversation lulls for a while, as Conan watches over the kids playing and KID feeds pigeons. Soon, a flock of birds crowded around KID, drawing eyes from the surrounding parents and children. The children look mildly fascinated by the scene of the bird Pied Piper but the parents look aghast at how KID is letting the wild pigeons wander all over him.

By some feat of persuasion, KID manages to get the birds to leave him alone, except for a few persistent ones, which stick their beaks into his sleeves and pockets, as if looking for treats. A tiny smile curve KID's lip as he says, "I do mean it though. I owe you a lot."

Conan feels a string knot around his heart. Of course it was about the debts. He replies casually, "Well, it's good that you didn't do anything too reckless. But," He bites his lip. "Can't you just stop the heists for a while?" He asks quietly, almost pleadingly. "Just lie low until the matter blows over. The crowd isn't exactly with you at the moment. If anything happened…"

He stops. He doesn't want to sound like he _cared._ Which he doesn't. It was just about the debts. He couldn't repay them if the thief wasn't around to receive them.

How much do they owe each other now? Conan lost count.

KID's mouth curves, but sadly. He shakes his head. "I can't. I have something important I must do."

_I know._ And Conan does too. He recognises the face KID wore as he stood on the rooftop. He wears it every time he faces with the Black Organisation.

"You don't have to stop." He almost doesn't know the low, quiet plea. "Just for a while…" He doesn't have to look up to know KID was shaking his head, that terrible, sad smile on his face. His heart ached.

"I didn't mean to make you sad, tantei-kun," KID says softly. He shoos away the birds, shifts over and pulls at Conan lightly until he rests against his side, tucked protectively under a sheltering arm. A gentle hand strokes through Conan's hair tenderly. He closes his eyes and blinks the tears away.

"Stupid," he mutters faintly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…"

A light chuckle reverberates against the chest he is all but lying against. The hand doesn't stop its comforting motion.

**Control**

Conan watches Nakamori Aoko beat down the reporters crawling around the police station. He winces as she, displeased with a comment by a persistent reporter, grabs the microphone and hurls it into the distance where it whacks another unfortunate hanger-on. She then proceeds to do a verbal stomp-down of the reporter and everyone else in hearing, which is fairly loud, given that she clearly inherited her father's vocal range.

"Talk about crowd control," Ran stares wide-eyed at the spectacle.

I don't think you should be the one to say that, Conan thinks. He recalls how Ran punished a relentless photographer who refused to stop blinding them with his flashes by seizing the camera and curb-stomping it. When faced with protests of destruction of private property, she threatened to file for harassment and a restraining order, finished with the ominous remark that her mother was the famed lawyer, Kisaki Eri. The crowd then decided to give Ran, and Conan by extension, a wide berth.

"What are you doing standing there?" She turns around to stare at them sharply. Nakamori points imperiously into the police station. "Go in now! We're holding them off. You! If you're not doing anything, you can set up a cordon and tell them to fucking well stay off the lawn if they want to keep their legs. And do we have loudspeakers? Can someone check-"

"We don't have loudspeakers, but we can use the sound system to broadcast-"

"That's good! Can you move off the corner and help out Akutagawa?" She barks out before turning away, striding over to the perimeter.

A young man look caught between alarm and awe. "Er, I'm in the middle of setting up the-"

Nakamori looks surprised. "Not you, I was talking to Kuwabara," she said briskly and shouts something indecipherable into the fray. The young, green-around-the-ears police officer looks slightly indignant and a lot relieved that he isn't in the hot seat.

They hurry into the police station, the noise level significantly lowering as the doors swing shut behind them. Both of them heave a sigh of relief.

"I sense a dominatrix budding," Conan mutters.

"A what?" Conan blanches. He turns around slowly to see the puzzled visage of Inspector Nakamori, who is… Nakamori Aoko's father. Hmm.

"A type of cereal," Ran jumps in. Her eyes dart to the door wildly, as if expecting the other one to storm in to bust them.

"Oh?" Thankfully, Inspector Nakamori seems to take it at face value. "Must be some newfangled word you youngsters came out with." He laughs. "Now I feel old."

"Hardly, you're still young enough to keep up with KID," Conan pipes up, eyes still huge, scanning Nakamori's face for any sign of having scented the truth.

"Heh, we try. I hear Mouri is working with Department 1 to solve the framing of KID," Nakamori addresses Ran, who jumps. "Tell them to work hard; I hate how the screaming fans interfere with the crime scene," he looks momentarily infuriated, before calming down quickly again. "But the atmosphere doesn't feel right nowadays. Best wishes from the KID Task Force here." He holds up a hand in a nonchalant wave as he walks away, sipping his coffee.

They stand there paralysed for a while. Conan snaps out of it first, and sneaks a look up at Ran. She looks petrified.

"Oh my God, he was so nice and… and I lied to him!" Ran sounds slightly hysterical. "I'm going to hell for this, aren't I, Conan?" She asks despondently.

He laughs uneasily and glances around for a security camera. _They don't record audio here, right?_

**Fake**

When Conan opens the cover of the newspaper groggily, a slip of paper slides out and falls into his lap. It reads, 'Read me! Page 16.' It has a doodle of KID's smirking mug in the corner.

He snorts at the note and blearily turns to the aforementioned page. After a quick scan, he spots a boxed note at the bottom of the page in tiny print. 'We apologise for our gravest mistake in maligning Kaito KID without appropriate evidence and research. We have published articles that are offensive and inaccurate for public consumption and are profoundly sorry."

An overwhelming feeling wells up in him and he laughs triumphantly.

A few nights later, he finds himself in the basement with KID again. KID is all but preening.

"Did you like my surprise?" He eagerly asks.

Conan rolls his eyes. "It was fake and insincere like everything else the tabloids print. They didn't even have the decency to print it in does-not-strain-your-eyes font." He paused. "I suppose that was your doing?"

KID grins. "Well I-"

"Don't want to know," Conan cuts in. "It's probably something that will fry my detective morals, knowing you."

KID pouts, but acquiesces gracefully.

"Why didn't you do it earlier?" Conan enquires, reluctantly curious.

"I was going to," KID admits. "I wouldn't have taken all this abuse lying down. I even had an interview lined up with them. You know, going for the wronged hero angle." He winks playfully.

Conan blanches. "That's _so wrong._"

"Then you talked to me on the rooftop." KID looks slightly melancholic. "You were so determined, and you told me the police believed in me. Knowing that, how could I? I decided to trust in the police too. I know you'll definitely find out the truth."

Conan blinks and scrambles for something to say once it became obvious KID fell silent. "The police are working hard," he finally manages.

"You are too," he smiles. Conan feels a slow heat coil in him. KID is _looking_ straight at him. He looks away.

"What if we take too long to find the real murderer? What if we never find him at all?" Conan fires back. He shifts his feet self-consciously.

KID laughs, as if Conan had said something ridiculous. "You won't. I have full confidence in you. Besides, I can take care of myself, no worries. Something like this won't get me down at all." _Liar_, Conan thinks sulkily. "And that sounds terribly incongruous coming from you, tantei-kun. Are you scared?" KID's monocle glints.

_Yes. Scared for you, frightened that I'll fail when it's the most important, terrified that everything and anything will go wrong._

"No." Conan denies shortly. "Are you mocking me?" He demands.

KID holds his hands up in the classic I'm-innocent gesture. "Just making sure," he laughs. "I did blow off the interview after all. I think that's what made those newspapers more vindictive in slamming me actually…"

Conan gapes at KID. "Are you stupid?" He questions in disbelief. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I don't need to." KID's tone becomes deadly serious, pinning Conan where he stands. "I arranged it at first because I thought I would need to protect my identity- but it's alright now." He smiles, but his eyes stare unerringly into Conan's. "You told me that you'd save me and I believed you, so I didn't need it anymore."

Conan inhales sharply and fumbles to find his voice. "I didn't say anything like that," he mumbles.

"Didn't you?" The thief's eyes laughs at him. "But you have. And I don't need any more safety nets." He backs away. Conan's eyes sharpen. "Don't work too hard, tantei-kun. You don't look so good."

Conan winces. He doesn't need any reminders of the weariness he can practically feel in his bones, but there is just no way he would pass up a heist, even for more sleep. "I'll take a nap later."

"I don't think a single nap will do anything for those majestic eye bags you're sporting," KID observes. "Maybe I'll leave a note with your Ran-nee-chan later. Someone ought to take better care of you." He's almost in front of the door now.

Conan brings his arm discreetly in front of his body. _Can't use the ball. It might ricochet off the door and hit me._ That would be completely and utterly embarrassing. "What would you know about it?" He retorts.

"Nothing, but I'd like to know more," KID says cheerily. "Good night, tantei-kun."

Conan throws up his arm, but KID flings a large white material over him, settling lightly over his body and smothering him. _Is this his cape?_ Conan thinks infuriated as he struggles to remove the giant tent over him. He hears a creak of the door swinging open and the pounding footsteps of KID's escape.

He finally manages to crawl out of the clinging cloth- _just a bed sheet after all, where does he store these things?-_ and runs for the hallway. It is devoid of any life. He sighs. KID is probably already outside, taking advantage of the handy ventilation system.

He hears the noisy impending approach of the Task Force, along with Nakamori's angry roars and tries to muster up the effort to spin up a story why he didn't dart KID five seconds into their encounter. He wonders what Nakamori would say if Conan just tells him that he chatted with KID.

_Nah, I still want to live for another day. With my hearing intact._

**Colours**

He doesn't think it's a big deal. He doesn't want to make a big fuss of it, but he simply won't give up until he finds the murderer. He _owes_ the thief that much, after he had promised him.

He doesn't recall ever doing anything like that, but if KID trusts him so, Conan won't let him down.

(If KID needs him, Conan'll walk with him down the path he's chosen to the end. It was just one of the silent, inconvenient truths of their strange relationship of cat-and-mouse.)

He reads the case files over and over again, until the black and white swarm in his vision blends into a fuzzy gray, even when he closes his eyes. He falls asleep with dirty ink smudges against his cheek and dreams of a long red cord going… where?

He doesn't remember.

Because the newspaper apology was printed so discreetly and secretively, naturally the reaction is explosive.

News of KID goes viral once more, and there are more apologies, the tone taken by the newspapers more genial, more KID supporters unearth themselves. _We knew he was innocent_, they proclaim, despite that while there was no evidence proving KID guilty, there was no alibi proving him innocent either.

Conan can feel the tide turn in favour of KID again and he feels a strange mixture of disgust, relief and happiness.

At times like this, I really don't understand myself, he muses. He doesn't think too hard about it though, and focuses on working.

Now, the pressure was on the police department to solve the case.

One late night, when he is desperately combing through the papers for anything that he might have missed, he hears the rattle of the fax machine. He frowns and heads out to the living room. Probably just Mouri forgetting to turn it off again, he thinks grumpily.

Conan treads lightly past Mouri, who was lying face down in his own pile of papers and beer cans and orders the flyaway freshly-faxed papers. He glances carelessly downwards and freezes, eyes scanning over the contents of the new evidences presented jerkily.

Then he smirks, like a hunter sighting his prey. He reaches for his red, red bowtie and the telephone.

**Garden**

For the next few days, the media was choked to the brim about articles with KID again. This time, they lauded him, painted his trials and tribulations tearfully and remonstrated belatedly against nasty opinions about KID.

"It's almost like they think if they put up enough of these, the public will forget that they're the ones who published the nasty opinions about that damn thief," Mouri grumbles and Conan agrees sardonically.

Then, one day in the early morning when Conan is preparing for school, he spots an odd red rose sticking out of the papers. Plucking it from in between the sheets, he stares at it oddly. _Tuxedo mask?_ He wonders and shakes the newspaper. He had a pretty good guess who it was from.

Another slip falls out and reads 'Read me! Page 1.' He glances at the cover page and laughs.

"What is it, Conan?" Ran calls out from the kitchen where she is preparing breakfast. She peeks out and spots the flower and asks, "Where'd you get that?"

Conan looks at the rose and says carelessly, "Someone gave it to me."

He scowls at the lone red rose. This better be only the tip of the iceberg! He worked his arse off to prove KID innocent. That stupid thief'd better send a fucking garden over to express his gratitude.

In a flash, Ran had dropped her cooking and leapt over the couch to snatch the rose away from him. She peers at it and grins mischievously. "Oh, really?" She eyes him wickedly. "Conan, do you have something to tell me? A confession, a love letter, a crush, maybe? Tell your Ran-nee-chan everything_._" She leans against him pseudo-confidingly, but he thinks it's just threatening.

"What?" He can only reply blankly. "No, no, no! It's not like that!" He shrieks hysterically as the full meaning of Ran's teasing sinks into his head.

Ran had already left the couch, brushing off her hands against her apron. "_Everything,_" she called out cheerfully, somehow making that single word ominous.

Conan groans and holds up the newspaper like a shield. He flipped past the huge grinning picture of KID on the cover page with its 'Wronged hero tells his tale!' headline emblazoned across the top to the World News section. He doesn't have the time to spare to devote to reading sensational tabloids after all. School was in an hour's time.

He tries to, but can't stop smiling triumphantly.

This time, when he takes the train, he hears a different conversation.

"I knew he was innocent-"

"Stop saying that, where were you when they posted crazy things about him?"

"Urgh, it's all the damned newspaper fucking reporters-"

"Yeah, it's all their fault! What rubbish about accuracy-"

Conan rolls his eyes but keeps quiet. He clenches his fingers around the rose in his pocket.

A fire of vindication blazes in him brightly.

**Permanent**

He sneaks up to the rooftop using a discreet door marked, 'For Staff Only'. Before he could quite make it there, an arm curves out of the darkness and snatches him from the floor, rappelling him up to the ceiling. Conan starts, even though he knows who it is. Indeed, it's KID there, wearing an untraditional black outfit, but sporting his usual monocle. He smiles at Conan but keeps his hand securely fastened over Conan's mouth. His eyes are fixed on a corner on the faraway ground. Conan opts to peer over. There is a man dressed in black with an orange tie and- is that the barrel of a gun?

KID murmurs, "These are part of my faithful followers. Unfortunately, I don't quite like them as much as my other fans." His smile is dark and full of teeth. Conan stares and as always, when faced with a situation he isn't too sure how to handle, analyses. Although he wasn't going to say a word, KID shushes him. "Not yet. Wait a bit until they're gone."

Conan counts minutes in his head. After one of the longest 18 minutes he had ever experienced (not quite, he is a detective after all, and detectives are used to long and fruitless stake outs), KID evidently decides it is safe enough to descend and does, carrying Conan carefully, much to his shame. KID gazes at him expectantly.

"Well?" He prompts, when Conan does nothing but stare. "Aren't you going to ask me anything? Like _how come, who are they, why did you do this_?"

Conan snorts, "I'm not Hakuba." He considers carefully. Of course the regular questions cross his mind, but the tricky thing is to ask a question that will yield the most information without causing the thief's hackles to rise and him to close up. He finally settles on, "How long?"

The thief smiles whimsically and airily, but Conan detects a painful line in the curve of lips. "Longer than I've been alive. But for the more direct answer, around the time that I returned."

Conan absorbs this and asks, "Why didn't you tell the police?"

KID drops into a cross-legged seat in the ground. He somehow manages to make it look elegant. "By the time I knew, I was in too deep. Who can I tell?" He smiles again faintly.

Conan pinches his nose bridge. "So you've been doing this without any backup? Of all the-"

"Of course not." He sounds terribly surprised. "I completely trust you to guard my back," KID assures.

"Don't say that to someone who is determined to put you in jail!" Conan barks at KID. He mutters under his breath, "God, I hope you haven't told Inspector Nakamori that too…"

"I do believe that they would though," KID muses. He grins when Conan looks at him oddly. "I believed you."

Conan feels his face warm. He squeezes his eyes shut and little technicolour sparks explode behind his eyelids. "Don't- don't _say_ that."

_Don't let me care for someone else I can't protect. Don't make me like a criminal- someone I should be putting behind bars. Don't do it._

"Are you afraid?" KID asks softly, almost hesitantly.

Conan opens his eyes and meets KID's. At such a short distance, with KID's head tilted up, even the monocle doesn't protect KID's face. Conan starts at the indigo eyes, then shuts his tightly. _No! What is that idiot thinking-_

A soft laugh greets his ears and he feels a hand tousle his hair. He carefully opens an eye and is thankfully met with KID in his full white regalia, the blessed white top hat shading the top half of his face again. "Too soon, huh?" KID sounds rueful. "I'm sorry."

Conan doesn't say anything. His heart thuds harder, faster than it had when he spotted the gun in the sniper's hands.

"It's just that- I really respect you." KID sighs softly. "You saved me back there you know? Over and over, you picked me up when I was at my lowest, and I _wonder._ I didn't even know you that well, but you did all that for me anyway. It started me thinking, what it would be like to be close to someone like you."

Conan flushes. KID doesn't stop speaking.

"I'm the one dressed in white, but you're the one who's radiant." KID tells him with raw honesty. "What can I do? I'm a jewel thief. I love shiny objects like that. Don't blame me for wanting to carry you away with me."

"That sounds like the worst excuse for kleptomania I've ever heard," Conan mutters. He wonders how KID can say such insanity so naturally.

KID laughs. "You can't discount the truth though. I thought you were the one big on truth."

Conan's cheeks burn if he even thinks about what KID just confessed. Judging by KID's crooked smile, he knows it and is enjoying his mortification. He pointed out pseudo-calmly, "I'm not an object."

KID's eye that wasn't behind the monocle sparkle. "Point taken."

Conan says, "I can't really watch your back. I'm-" _Not old enough. Not strong enough. Not good enough._

Conan rubs his eyes wearily. "I just don't see how this is going to work. How will we do this? What will we do for heists? We're still-" _detective and thief._ He doesn't dare to say it out loud, afraid that it would snap KID back to his senses and the intimacy ruined. Afraid, afraid.

Shouldn't he want it though? It isn't good for anyone to keep building castles in the sky.

KID smiles and spreads out his arms like a showman. "We'll be partners. And you'll chase me and I'll run from you. And get away successfully, of course. And we'll defeat any foes that we'll face in the meanwhile. Don't think I don't know about your own _shrinking_ issues." His tone sharpens towards the end.

Conan blanches. _How'd that crafty thief find out?_

KID, reading his mind or perhaps his befuddled face, says glibly, "The little blonde lady was rather forthcoming after a mutual exchange of information."

_That Haibara!_

KID shrugs. "It'd be unreasonable to expect complete protection of anyone. We all have our weaknesses. But we have our strengths too." He grins brilliantly. "Like you like to tell me, you're not completely helpless. And I'm not either. We'll help each other. I'll save you save me."

Conan sighs and thinks it over. "Temporary partners might be fine."

"Permanent partners," KID corrects happily. "We'll be together for a long time to come! Don't sound so reluctant!"

"_Working together._" Conan corrects in turn.

"Yes, yes," KID doesn't sound as contrite as Conan would have liked. "I'll enjoy getting to know you better." His smile is warm and he reels Conan in with an arm and leans intimately over him.

Conan frowns at him uncertainly.

"Hmm." The thief peers over Conan's shoulder. "You're kinda smaller than I thought you were," he muses. "Should I slow down a bit for you to catch up next time?" He teases laughingly.

"_No thank you,_" Conan bites out with a scowl. Jerk.

He shrugs, still inhumanly cheerful. "Well, it was worth a shot." Conan could hear faint shouts echo from below. "Ah, snap, looks like we've run out of time." KID pouts. "Well, it's rather late, and it's past your bedtime. Shall I sing you a lullaby to sleep, baby?"

Conan doesn't even bother waiting for the end of the sentence, bending down to gear up his shoes and sending a fast ball at KID. KID leaps away and ducks behind the stair railing. Conan looks around for another solid object he can punt, before KID swoops downwards like a bat. Conan spins around, getting his right arm up, but an agile hand sneaks over his arm and snaps down the cover of his watch. He snatches up Conan, cackling.

"There, I have captured the Sleeping Beauty and now I shall give him the kiss of never-ending slumber," he declares victoriously.

"Oh stop it," Conan groans. "Stop mangling children's fairy tales. You're ruining my second childhood."

"You love me anyway," KID grins.

"God forbid that anyone doesn't."

"I'm not really concerned about anyone else at the moment and if you are, I'm doing it wrong," KID frowns. He bends down and his face comes dangerously close to Conan's. He freezes like a rabbit and shuts his eyes tightly. Conan feels a light touch of lips on his forehead, like a searing brand against his skin. A cold metal chain clinks and trails against the side of his face and glasses.

"Good night, baby," is the last thing Conan hears before a spray of sweet-smelling gas fills his nose and his mind becomes fuzzy and limbs grow heavy. He slumps against a secure body, fingers loosening from their grasp of rough wool.

_Permission for the kill given if he dares to say anything sappy like 'And they lived happily ever after'_, Conan grouches mentally as his mind grows hazy and thoughts slip away like water in a cupped palm.

Thankfully, he doesn't or Conan doesn't hear it before he falls asleep. It has been a long day after all, and he needs his rest.

* * *

AN: I was trying this out so I could pace myself better... I'm still trying to improve I guess. Any feedback would be appreciated. Thank you very much! C:

I saw writers using this style and got curious about it, but its really hard to use! I really envy people who can do this naturally, I kept having to go back and correct my grammar. So if you see odd sentence structure, that would be it, ehehe.


End file.
